


I'm Just Missing You

by lifeinapizzabox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Letter, Next Gen, TW: Suicide, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinapizzabox/pseuds/lifeinapizzabox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the Battle of Hogwarts, George composes a letter to Fred, updating him on his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Just Missing You

Dear Fred,

Happy Birthday.           

Today is always the worst. Ginny lectures me on how much I lock myself away for everything. Holidays, weddings, birthdays. Anything that we once enjoyed together. This year, though, I’m not allowed to just disappear. I have to ‘figure out something and move on’ as she put it so sensitively. She suggested that I write you letters about my life. It was easier than protesting.

What she doesn’t see is how wrong this is. I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. You always just knew. Maybe you still just know. Maybe this is all pointless. I’m 37. I have 3 kids. I shouldn’t have to write letters to my dead brother just because Ginny says so. It wasn’t just her, though. They all agreed, Mum, Dad, and Charlie supported her the most, but even Angelina didn’t take my side. She claims that I’m hurting Fred Jr. by treating him too much like I would you. What she doesn’t see is that I only picked her because of you. She tells me everything in my life is because of you like it’s a bad thing. We were the same, Fred. Why can’t they see that? Why can’t they see how permanent this change is? A letter, even a thousand letters can’t bring back the other half of my soul.

I have to humor them, though, so let’s start with today. I went over to the Burrow. That’s where Ginny had cornered me. I planned to just go up to our old room and wait until I could slip away, but she begged and threatened and you remember how stubborn she is. You think she would have out grown it. I still can’t say no to her.

That was how I found myself in front of the cornucopia of gifts. All of us have successful careers and do all we can to support Mum and Dad, but the number still wasn’t a surprise. It was exactly the same number of gifts on the table that have been there for 37 years. They tell me to get over your death, and they still buy birthday and Christmas presents for both of us. They still send the looks my way. The looks full of sorrow and almost pity. Sometimes Mum gets this look like she lost two sons that day.

Those looks kill me, Freddie. They make me feel terrible and guilty, but it isn’t enough. They don’t have the dreams. They don’t see you die every single night in one thousand different ways. Sometimes I forget how quick it was. I always see you die in awful, slow ways, but in reality it was so fast. They suffer from that nightmare. I suffer from more.

Angelina also has a look. It’s the look when she forgets which twin I am. When she thinks she married you. It lasts for about a split second, and I’ve never told her I realized it. I married her because you liked−maybe even loved−her. Maybe she married me because I am you.

Now I’m home. I promised Ginny I’d send her the letter by midnight, but I can’t send her this. She isn’t you. She’ll never understand. No, she will get worried and tell Harry who will tell Ron and knowing him, it will get back to mum which will make her worry and give her that look. So Ginny’s will say this: _Fred. Happy Birthday. Don’t worry about me. I really am Happy. Miss you, George._ Good enough. She probably doesn’t expect more than that. Let alone all I have written anyway.

Anyway, back to home. We live in a ranch about 10 miles from the Burrow. I built it right after you died. Suddenly the flat above the shop seemed like a terrible place to live. It probably always was, but I always had someone to draw attention from that. I invent up there, though. Ange won’t let me do it at home.

She works at the shop, I invent, but the most helpful has been Percy. Believe it or not, the perfect, anti-Fred has tried to fill your position. He’s good at it, too. A bit of a miser when it comes to hashing out galleons on experimental projects, but I deal. We made it work when all we had was a galleon a week from Harry’s winnings. Wish I could still share them with you.

In all honesty, Fred, I have everything. I have a family; a home; 5, soon to be 6, shops around the world; and Percy to manage it all. The only thing that I don’t have is time. I would give everything to have more time with you. I’ve thought about leaving it all behind many times. Tried once. Headmaster McGonagall had just sent a letter home about his troublemaking. He is so much like you it put me over the edge. I just wanted to see you so much. Roxanne found me. She was 8. I still don’t know what happened, neither does she. She managed to wake me up, and, at age 14, she is already helping the nurse at Hogwarts with the trickier cases. She understands now. I made an Unbreakable Vow never to try again, and the way she arranged it, I would have to kill us both to see you again.

I miss you, Fred. You are all I think about every second of everyday. It was nice talking to you, though. I will never move on, but now I feel a bit better and a bit less hollow. If you can read this, if you feel as empty as I do, it might just help you, too.

Love You Forever, George.


End file.
